After the War
by TheLions'PaleProtector
Summary: After the war, Draco remembers. "So I became your reason for being after all, didn't i? Just not in the way I wanted... My plan was more successful than I ever thought, you stayed away...You hate me, but at least you're alive...Lovely fool' Fluff alert


**After The War**

**Summary: **Complete. After the final fall of Voldemort, Draco remembers. A long, dramatic one-shot with the possibility of more. Fluff alert.

**Pairing: **Harry/Draco

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Draco, Harry Potter, or the 'verse, much to my disappointment. I just like to borrow them from time to time...

It still didn't seem like the war was over, like anything so life-altering as the final fall of Voldemort had occurred. Logically there probably should have been a party… sunshine and rainbows, drinks and parades and laughter. Logically there probably should have been a change, a difference, or some semblance of normalcy... like the Golden Trio in one piece, reigning over their kingdom of blissfully ignorant fools with none of the evil that once plagued them to ruin their Hogsmeade weekend or some such. Right? Evil like him. Logically... Draco shook his head ruefully, quietly laughing at himself and the idiocy of his inner ramblings. Who was he kidding with logically? Since when had anything,_ anything_, ever been logical here? Never. Such thoughts, _his_ thoughts, had been those of a hopelessly naïve, clueless child- and he'd never been any of those things. After the war... none of them were either. 'Even the Weasel,' he added to himself with an odd twist of his lips. 'Weasley,' he corrected himself, not even fully knowing what prompted the change in thinking. 'But I suppose even we had to grow up sometime.'

The platinum-haired wizard sighed, eyes darkening to pewter, and looked at the still form on the hospital bed before him. No, there was no laughter, or partying or cataclysmic changes- though the collective relief of everyone who'd survived was palpable. The skies seemed as black and dreary as they'd been before, though the smoke had cleared. The grounds/battlefield, while minus all the bodies, was still empty and ravaged and bloodstained, damage yet too deep for even the strongest wizards spells to clean. The silence was still deafening- a living, breathing thing, and the people were still drained but ever aware, jumping at the slightest sound and peering into shadows, wands at ready. It could just as well have been war time still.

Or the years leading up to it, he reminded himself bleakly, remembering. Could just have well been... except their star player, their leader and savior, was unconscious in the medical wing of Hogwarts- with little hope of waking. And with Draco as something of a guardian, oddly enough. 'Or maybe not so odd, depending on who you asked,' mused the almost 20-year-old, a wry smile quirking his lips. At that thought, and the procession that followed, Draco's gaze lifted to scan the familiar and now quite dear features of one Harry Potter. "I always _was_ quite good at keeping secrets," he spoke in a low, dry tone, picking up another of many one-sided conversations he kept going with Harry. ('Like how quickly he'd become 'Harry' instead of 'Potter' or any of the nicknames he'd contrived for him,' the wizard noted briefly.)

"After all, how else could you explain my real role in the war, right?" he continued with the facsimile of a grin- his half hearted attempt at a light, casual mood. He absentmindedly traced the scar where his Dark Mark had once been. Draco flicked his eyes away with his next, softly spoken, words. "But no one, above all, would get this. Or if told they'd expire from the shock- including your brainy friend Granger who knows everything. I'm not even sure Dumbledore understood, and he... well, you know." He suddenly broke off, wincing at his choice of words. So very many had expired already, counting the wise old wizard he'd just mentioned. But he didn't, couldn't, stop purging.

"When you rejected my offer of friendship that first year I was crushed, angry and jealous of the red-haired brat who'd gotten you instead- even before I truly knew who you were. More so afterwards. And even as poor as my offer was, so prideful and arrogant a child I was, I struck out. I did my best to hate and torment you… but over time it grew harder and harder to do either anymore. I saw too much of who I was then, who my father had tried and often succeeded to shape me into. I saw who you were beyond 'the Boy-Who-Lived' title I finally realized you never wanted. And I liked that bit of you too much."

His scarred hand came up to touch the softness of Harry's face but he stopped short with a sigh and sardonic half-smile, shaking his head. "I liked it too much. Which was why, after second year, I became your guardian angel." Draco laughed without amusement, looking down again briefly before glancing back, eyes sober. "Ridiculous, isn't it? My father was the staunchest supporter of the one who ruined your life, continuously tried to kill you... I was raised to hate all you stood for, never mind that you rejected me, and all I wanted was to protect you. Even knowing I'd never get the recognition or friendship I craved from you- I didn't deserve it, even if there might've been a slight chance. I still don't. You were, _are_, more than the savior of the wizarding world a millions times over. You are the most _amazing_ man I've ever known."

The stormy-eyed wizard stared with a far away, somewhat dreamy, expression. "Courageous, selflessly kind-hearted, though sometimes foolishly so… and more powerful than you ever knew, yet so modest. Or as unaware of it as you were of your great appeal, stunning loyalty, and the occasional innocence that could be charming. You saw hope and a chance for being even when nobody else did. Even when you lost it yourself, you never let them do the same, never let them see, especially those who knew you best. Everyone but me. But your willingness to fight, despite the odds and lack of faith, just inspired me more. A true warrior, savior. Yet you were as lost and needing of love as me." With the last point he re-focused on Harry's face, a rare, true smile on his pale features. "So I had to do it, you see. Had to guard you in secret from the unseen threats, had to take the mark like Snape did. Merlin knows nobody else dared to, whether they had the power or not. It almost killed me at time to be so cruel and keep up the aggressive enmity."

Draco looked down at his hands, examining them as if he found them the most fascinating things on Earth. He still recalled how shocked and disappointed Harry had seemed, behind the disgust, to see he'd gotten The Mark as well. And it was a long while before he raised his eyes again, voice strangely thick, starting anew with another weak imitation of a laugh. "Everyone needs a schoolyard foe, you know. Everyone needs some opposition, antagonization, a contrast, right? Something to distract us from all else, make us stronger, give us an outlet for the dismal thoughts and memories ready to consume us. Or practice for greater things," he added with some amusement before descending back into dark recollections. "And no, Voldemort didn't count. You were too good for him even as a baby, but he wasn't on your level. How could anyone be expected to take that on at so young an age? Not like I'm any better, but the Dark Lord... was more of a step off, an unreal goal to reach someday. Dumbledore's contrast." Draco clenched his fists, struggling to reign in his anger as old issues re-surfaced. "Yet you were left to fight him. Alone. Without much more than a vague warning and a bit of training. A child, for all purposes." Taking a breath and easing his mind with a glimpse of Harry's face, he let it go. Harry was safe and Dumbledore was gone, unable to answer for his mistakes and manipulations.

Hard to remember how powerful the dark-haired wizard was, or that they were the same age, Harry could be so child-like in his faith and innocence at times. It almost belied the ancient depths of his eyes and the tall, hard planes of his body gained through hard work and experience. But however strong or 'predestined', no one should've been burdened with all that alone… the fate of millions, the fall of a near invincible evil tyrant with Voldemort's following. Even with all the tag-a-longs he considered friends, he was still alone. Trapped on a pedestal he never asked for and held apart from anyone else, not even given the allowances any other human or wizard got naturally, like being treated as normal, as the youth he was. Except for his friends and Draco, however negatively he did it. Crushed with the weight of his thoughts, he nevertheless spoke on, needing both the freedom and comfort of confession, even if he couldn't respond. Like if only he kept talking, it would save him.

"I could sense you were quickly wearying, spirited or not. You were ready to give up and die, in your mind hopefully taking Voldemort with you, but not caring either way. No matter your love of magic or the people you'd encountered here. You were denied the chance for a real life. Your friends, and later your Godfather, stalled you for a time- I could see you longed for it. Oblivion. You were fading into tedium. So I became your sentinel, your cause, your tormentor, the cruelty of my words and actions tearing into you and anyone weaker- because you'd keep going and fight for them more than you'd fight for yourself. You'd push yourself to stop me, try to figure out what move I'd make next, before you'd push yourself to live- though you put up a good enough front for your friends. And if such events as the Chamber of Secrets weren't orchestrated..." Against his will, tears filled Draco's eyes and his voice hoarsened, throat choked with emotion.

"So I became your reason for being after all, didn't I? Just not in the way I'd wanted." A sob punctuated his statement, but the corners of his lips tucked up into a weak smile. "I kept you alive a little longer, but it grew worse with each passing year, didn't it? Even if I didn't have a hand in a lot of the grim events that occurred in school or after, I was suspect. My plan was more successful than I ever would've wanted. And that made sure you'd never want me around, would hate me for the rest of our lives... even if you _did_ wake up, _did_ know about my efforts, my secrets. Never friends, never anything more." He ended, barely audible now. There was no point in even trying to cover up his slip, there was no ego or pride left to save, and no one could hear anyway. The silver haired wizard scrubbed his hands over his face. "What a mess all this became." He shook his head. But with his labor he almost bought Harry the life he'd wished for, down to the sacrifice he'd nearly succeeded in . He could've ended it, ended Voldemort, and the green-eyed Gryffindor dashed it all. "Fool," he whispered fervently, both a praise and a curse, his tender gaze belying his words. Draco fought with himself for a moment but finally gave into the urge and hesitantly raised a pale, long fingered hand to the muted gold skin of the other mans' cheek, stroking. It gave him a measure of peace that no one else could see.

"Why did you have to save my life? Why would you save the life, the soul, of an accursed Death Eater who tormented you? Whether I'd begun Voldemort's fall and doomed myself or not..." Draco drew his hand back as he started to shake with leashed sorrow, anger and fear, a tear spilling down his cheek. And he closed his eyes, flashing back to the incident that haunted his mind as if it held all the answers. Harry stood in front of Voldemort, dirty and ragged but still magnificent. His emerald green eyes sparked as he held his wand to him, defying him, defying himself with his tiredness, with all and his injuries. And while the Dark Lord wasn't in the best of shape himself, it was clear he held the upper hand. Though to their credit, his friends/army was doing its' job holding off the Death Eaters and Voldemort wasn't calling anymore to cut Harry down- perhaps wanting the pleasure to himself. The words of prophecy wavered in the air before them. 'None shall be safe as long as the other lives,' And as two sets of lips began to form the words of the curse that would likely finish them both just from the sheer force and energy required, Draco came into view. Startling them and causing them to lose focus.

Looking much like his father with his shoulder-length platinum hair, 6' plus height and cold grey eyes, he 'coincidently' managed to apparate between the two mortal enemies with a raised brow and chilling expression. His gaze skipped over Harry to face his leader. He couldn't look at the other man now- Draco knew he'd collapse into a shuddering bundle of emotions if he did. Especially after killing his father for him- for his cause, for his friend Ron who was about to be Avada Kedavra'd. The redhead looked at him with fear, defiance and later shock and too many questions as Draco turned the curse on the man who raised him. His surprising thanks still echoed in his ears, brown eyes seeming to stare into his soul before running off to fight again, bleeding heavily but alive. 'Father.'

Steeling himself, he forced a wicked smirk as Voldemort lowered his wand slightly and greeted him, oddly pleased instead of annoyed or angry at the interruption. Harry shock-still. "Ah Draco, one of my favorite servants. Just in time." Something in Draco grated at his tone, at the word 'servant', but he shook it off. "Really?" he murmured coolly, casting another glance to Harry, who just stood there wide-eyed. 'Why doesn't he do something already instead of staring like a buffoon?' The ex-Slytherin thought despite his feelings, gritting his teeth. 'And you're supposed to be the hero, the leader of the light! Think of the others, Potter- stop being so damn brave and run! Live for another day and let me do my deed. Or use my presence and finish him. Finish us both.' But as with most private thoughts, the champion couldn't hear him. Which was probably just as well for both of them.

Hiding his mounting tension, he returned his eyes to Voldemort, who practically purred, "Yes, I was just about to finish off Potter here. But perhaps you'd like to do the honors- you've been looking forward to his demise so long yourself, after all." Eyes narrowed, he wondered just what the Dark Lord's game was. Did he suspect—no, impossible, no one but Snape knew... he'd been so careful, his occlumency beyond compare. But he knew he'd waited too long to respond when he saw the frighteningly gleeful flash of those deadly red eyes. Snapping to himself quickly, he smiled viciously with a low bow, slowly turning on a heel to face Harry. "With pleasure, my lord." At his look, the former Gryffindor finally raised his glowing wand again, eyes sharp as he seemed to bring himself out of his daze. Knowing it'd likely be the last he ever saw of him, the image of Harry ready to kill him following him to the afterlife, a sad note touched Draco's face. And the whimsy took him over enough that he said aloud something he was never meant to, never should've in front of Harry, and especially Voldemort especially. "I'm sorry. I never wanted things to become so tangled. But it seems Fate had other plans."

He got it suddenly- why they never could've been together, never friends; why Fate wouldn't allow it, despite his great desire and their many similarities. While they would've no doubt balanced each other and done a lot of good they would've never been able to fulfill their destinies. They would've changed each other, for better or worse, and missed all the experiences [however painful] that had made them who they were, toughening them up and bringing them here to defeat Voldemort. While he was confident Harry still would've been able to fight him, and maybe win, much more time and even more live would've been forfeit- the world would've been forfeit. And if they'd been together in any capacity, Draco knew he'd never have been able to sit behind the lines or take the mark to save lives. Too many enemies on either side hunting them, too many deadly things in the dark they wouldn't have been able to see and guard from. And if nothing else, he was confident in his role and his. Whatever he'd had to do for it, the status he'd gained was vital. Especially after Snape disappeared. "Goodbye."

Leaving those as his final words, he released the spell, so fast as to be almost indiscernible to the still demonically smirking Voldemort, and he spun around, wand pointed. And he prayed his sacrifice meant something and Harry survived to benefit from it. Then he called forth the words of a dark, Eternal Death curse- far older, stronger, more permanent than the Avada Kedavra as he bared his teeth in a feral grin to the monster who'd destroyed so much. The spell was only strengthened by the link formed through his mark and service. 'We go down together,' he hissed internally before occluding his mind, eyes blazing gloriously as he felt the sharp intrusion of the Leglimens (two?). Not faltering for a second as his life energy blared out to take Voldemort down, he just fell to one knee, stature proud and hair flying in the wind. 'Malfoys are always confident and composed, even in the throws death,' his fathers' words rang back to him with a satirical smile. 'Especially when they have a cause,' Draco added himself. And he laughed at the Dark Lord's fear, surprise, and pitiful attempts to break free, as if somehow recognizing the ancient curse. The ritual was lightyears beyond the strength and power of the speaker, however much to perform; the preparations far longer and more complicated than the chant. In fact, it almost had a life of its own- and there was no recourse. He saw to it personally.

"I thought you'd known when you asked me to kill Harry, with all your so-called influence. But it was just a clever cover for your weaknes and selfish fears of Death," Draco mocked. 'There was no escape,' he thought with joy and relief. Life magic, _soul_ magic was much like the heart magic that saved Harry so long ago, just as ancient, just as unbreakable- whether the purest white light or the darkest black. Harry was safe. His life would mean something after all, even if no one else knew it. Draco smiled, eyes closing as the pull of the wild magic grew stronger. His body was weak as him and The Dark Lord fell to the ground, but the pieces of his soul thrummed with victory. "No!" A scream echoed from behind as Harry jolted from the shock of seeing his erstwhile enemy turn on Voldemort to save him. Almost as if distinguishing the spell, he came forward. But Draco sensed him move even before he reached him, and his hand flew out to stop him. "No... stay..." the pale blonde managed to gasp out jaggedly, panting heavily, throat torn as if from screaming without sound. Voldemort squirmed in the grass between them, mindless with pain and the clutches of death, but was forgotten the moment their eyes met. Draco's lashes fluttered fiercely with the effort to keep open and stay focused, darting from his foe to Harry. His chest rattled with each harsh, hard-won breath, but one touch of those amazing jewel-like eyes made it worth it. And in the beauty he found there, both confusion and realization, wonder and censure, his suffering eased. So all he felt was the draining pull of his essence to Voldemorts' into eternity as he picked up the chant, voice steadier under Harry's gaze. "Why?" he thought he heard Harry yell over the roaring wind in his ears.

Draco looked deep into those eyes, opening his mouth again as if to say something in the space between chants, but then closed it, shaking his head. Tearing his gaze away and resting the preternatural silver orbs on Voldemort instead, watching the almost tangible bands of magic tighten around him, his hand subconsciously crept to his chest where his heart might've been. He marveled at the lack of pain as he crawled to the shriveled body of his former "master". 'Was this what Harry's mother felt in her last moments, knowing her surrender was for the very best? Peace and exhaustion?' he mused absentmindedly. 'True or not, Harry's just the kind of person that inspires great sacrifice, no matter the pain...' His thoughts grew fanciful and he was too out of it to wonder why that no longer mattered. 'And no time,' a voice in the back of him head scolded, reminding him he had yet to speak the final verse. So he began the verse that would toll the Dark Lord's final destruction, with no hope of reincarnation, tongue laboriously wrapping around the convoluted Sumerian. Until a searing light hit him and the lines were plucked from his head without him even feeling the intrusion that allowed the other man in. Then the final note was intoned by the foolish hero as the wizards' prone body struck the earth outside the circles' edge, connecting the two in parallel. And this time Draco screamed, launching himself at Harry with the last of his strength. Too late.

"Noooo!" Eyes burning and inexplicably blurry, he stared with growing horror at his... comrades'[?] Frozen face. "Stupid, _stupid_ boy," he whispered fiercely, sounding more like a croak. Tears fell freely as he lost the inner battle, lightly smacking him as if he could so revive the dark-haired savior. Something he was to later repeat half a dozen times. "Why?" Jaw clenching tight, he dried the tears on his ashen face with determination. "There's no way you're gonna take this from me, Potter," he seethed, cupping his hands over Harry's heart where a sizable wound lay. Blood pooled between them from various cuts as he drew the wards. "This is my swan song, got it?" Face alight with an old, familiar expression of anger, annoyance and something else he couldn't yet name, he slowly canted another dark spell, once designed to give [or trade] life rather than steal it away (with great risk, as most such spells required). A brilliant, white-hot blast of energy took him as the remainder of his magic and life force went into Harry… and that was the last he knew. Hermione and McGonagall found them together like that just an hour later.

When he'd woken up, he'd been told that it was already six months after the final battle and he was lucky to be alive... and so soon awake. He'd responded that it felt like forever, but now he knew. The only reason he was still here at all was something he could barely grasp and a complicated series of spells... performed by Granger. The girl he'd tortured the most mercilessly throughout school had brought him back to life and saved his magic. Even more surprisingly, when he'd asked her why, the explanation was something like, 'Because of the bond you share with Harry, and we've you to thank as much as him for our lives.' Three months later and he still couldn't get much else from her. How did they know what he did? And a bond? It ate at him. What bond and what did it have to do with his continued existence when he should by all rights be dead? More than dead. Damned. Eternally. With both him and Harry saying half of the curse, and Draco giving what he had left to Harry... He should be dead and Harry should be better off, previous curses discounted. What kind of power could counter that? Why had Harry even chanted those last lines and tried to take on Draco's death/fate?

When he'd thought he'd finally found a purpose for the legacy of pain and dark magic his father had pressed on him; when he finally had something to give back. Something that might've redeemed his memory. Now the reason for his sacrifice, his reason for _being_, was gone, or as good as gone. He'd sacrificed himself, and now Draco had nothing left. 'Hopeless.' Then, 'It's never enough.' With one parting caress, a goodbye spread in slim curse-scarred fingers over smooth tan skin and chapped lips, Draco stood to leave. He may as well be gone too. "No...stay..."As recognition lanced through him sugar-sweet, he stopped with one hand on the door. "Harry," Voice scarce above a breath, he turned around, hardly daring to hope. But seeing Harry as he'd been before, cold and still, Draco's heart constricted painfully and he bowed his head. Just his imagination then. Pathetic. So desperate to hear his voice after these long months that he's inventing shit. Lip curled in disgust at himself, he slowly turned the knob, preparing again to leave. "Stay." Firmer now. And that one word made his heart jump, brought him alive again.

Stepping closer, he saw the ex-Gryffindors' lashes fluttering open, head tilted marginally towards him, a small pink slip of tongue darting out to moisten the sandpaper dry lips he'd so recently touched. And when those tired, jaded green eyes hit his, he was lost. "Harry," Draco breathed in affirmation, a fraction of a smile on his own lips as he pretended none of this was so out of character. He wasn't even going to try going out of his way to cover his tracks like he'd do so often in the past. It was useless. Yet he struggled between showing his joy and relief to the boy he'd risked everything for- and masking it to preserve his sanity and his cover. Fretting slightly, his gaze dropped and his smile disappeared. Though when he felt Harry's drained, searching glance on him, he decided quickly. And he looked up with the cool, sneering features he'd worn so well before the final battle. This was just easier. He _was_ still a Malfoy after all. Even if he was the last of them. That meant staying clear of frivolous feeling and practicing control above all else- especially if his feelings had no outlet, if he had no chance of getting close to the Boy-Who-Lived.

But the wealth of puzzlement and pain in those verdant eyes shook him thoroughly enough that he slipped- and satisfied discovery settled on Harry's face. Damn it. It felt too damn good for him to look at him like that. Two choppy words blew him back apart. "Guar'in an-jil?" the leader of the light forced out roughly, almost stumbling with the tiniest of smiles gracing his lips. A thumb stroked across Draco's hand, which had somehow become clutched in his pause. When had he reached the dark-haired man? When had he taken his hand? Was he taunting him with his touch? The combined meaning of Harry's words struck him like a bolt of lightning and he gasped with a jolt, eyes amazingly wide. But—how? _How_ did he know? Was he just guessing? Had he truly heard him from wherever he'd been in his death-like state? Or had it been plucked from his mind when he'd intruded to take the other information mid-battle? Needing to think, he tried snatching his hand away only to find it grasped tighter. And he swallowed heavily, trying not to make anything of it even though it could've meant everything. A million options flitting through his brain as he met Harry's intense stare, heart cracking with every breath as he fought not to give it all away. Even if Harry' knew of his vigilance...

"Is _**that**_ why you said the last part of the incantation? Is _that_ why you tried to take my death unto yourself?" Draco whispered harshly, silver orbs searing into green as his emotions bubbled to the surface. He got no response to that, but the silence and the stare was all the answer he needed. He should've guessed. He jerked his hand away harder, jumping to his feet and pacing without bothering to even wonder why or when he'd taken a seat. "Stupid, _stupid_ Gryffindor," he snarled, stopping to glare before Harry's look became too much. He ignored the pain in his chest, continuing furiously. "Of all the foolish things- sacrificing your life, your very soul, for that of a worthless Death Eater? For _me_? Just because I watched your back all those years, it didn't mean _anything_! It _didn't_!" Draco yelled, not caring if it carried outside and attracted attention for once. Everything inside him was clamoring to get out, his anger scorching his throat. "I just wanted him gone, my torment over! You were supposed to live and be happy and maybe even find freakin' love, and let me do my bloody thing! My life means nothing, don't you get it? _**Nothing!**_ What's one more dark wizard, after all? One who's tortured you for years! Who tortured your friends, tortured everyone weaker! But you—" the platinum-haired young man choked, the eyes meeting Harry's brimming with anger and... something else.

"_Your_ life means everything. _You're_ the hero! The wizarding worlds' _savior_, for Merlin's sake! Yet you had to surrender yourself..." A sob shook him uncontrollably and he went with it, laid bare and too weak from years of suppressed emotion to do anything more. "_Why_? _Why_ did you have to take control of that curse? Why couldn't you _**let me die**_?" Tears streamed helplessly down his face now as he stood in front of Harry's bed with fisted hands, the pain in his head and chest almost unbearable. The other man just stared at him a long moment, his eyes shimmering with a world of thought and emotion, and something suspiciously like tears. Then he opened his mouth to speak at last, struggling as before. "Because..." Harry let out a breath, eyes fluttering shut then opening again, blazing. 'Because your life _does_ mean something, because you _aren't_ just another dark wizard, and I finally understand why you acted the way you did. It _did_ save me.' The thoughts, strong and bright and full of emotion appeared in Draco's head and he gasped aloud, stumbling back, "How—" Before he could take one more step back and hurt himself falling into a stand of trays, the green-eyed saviors' hand shot out, to pull him forward and steady him. "What—" Draco started again, resisting, as Harry rose to his knees on the bed, leaning in and smiling slowly as his thumb stroked the tender inside of his wrist. In a gesture of calming, or maybe, maybe, affection.

'Because we share a connection, a bond,' Harry supplied softly, smile almost teasing as they echoed his friends' earlier words. And Draco's eyes closed, eyebrows skyrocketing as he _**felt**_ it. Nearly _saw_ it. Thin but strong, an almost imperceptible band of light tying them together. 'Sacrifice to sacrifice, spirit to life to magic,' he thought wondrously. '_**Soul**_ Magic.' Harry stepping into the circle, offering his own life and soul by finishing the curse Draco started to spare him, it bound them. Two souls offered where one was contracted to destroy another, two halves taken to seal the spell, two bodies half empty- binding to preserve the balance so they didn't disappear. And what life the spell destroyed, Draco restored by giving his own, and apparently visa versa. It tightened the bond... and kept them both alive until Hermione could close the circuit and heal the void. Draco swallowed, eyes shining when they opened again. By the selflessness of their actions, they made the darkest magic light. Both of them made it light. The batty old Headmaster was right. Intent _did_ alter the course of magic after all. And Harry cleansed him. The former Slytherin stepped back, shadows already choking him. And as his head tipped up to catch a breath or two, he saw blood in the blossoms on the wall. Blood. Mingled together on the night of a full moon with sacred words and a sacrifice. Harry, welcome or not, had saved him- and in return Draco had bound him to darkness. Because he'd been careless. Clutching his head, he couldn't breathe, caught in a panic attack as he had flashbacks of his youth. Beatings and Crucios and 'you can't do anything right.' Failure.

'_**Draco!'**_ He heard Harry yell firmly into his mind, trying to break him out of it. The other man reached for him again despite his depleted strength and Draco snapped to it, closing his mind again and smoothly stepping back, avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said coolly, the perfect echo of his deceased father, turning to leave once more. "I'll find someway out of this. For you—" "Draco," Harry spoke aloud with his rusty voice. The platinum-haired wizard stopped and winced internally at the reminder of the spell and sacrifice. The last verse that was a death knell on the speaker as well as the victim, that tore him up inside because he'd closed it. He sighed and collected himself before turning to meet the brilliant gaze with pained pewter eyes. "Listen Har—Potter, I watched your back, and you saved me, for better or worse. It just happened to grant us a 'get out of hell free' card,' he ignored the snort at the twisted of the Muggle term, "We're even. It was an interesting experience, we came out of it a little souvenir, but it's over." The blood in Draco's veins boiled to brand him a liar.

"It's nothing," he said through gritted teeth. He took a step back through the door, his chest paining him again ruthlessly. "A bond easily forgotten. So don't do me any favors by being nice." 'Especially if you're gonna taunt me with something I can never have,' the slightly older wizard finished in his head, swallowing past his disappointment and heartache. The touch Harry gave him blazed across his skin. 'Damn you and your heroics,' he cursed the boy in the room behind him. 'Damn you for doing this to me.' "Some things... never change... do they?" Harry asked after him with that halting, raspy voice, sounding coldly irritated. As if knowing that'd be the only thing that got to him, that he couldn't ignore. And it worked flawlessly. Jaw clenched, Draco stood frozen, hands fisting. "Still arrogant... pushy... blind-sided... stubborn to a fault..." That got Draco back in the room, furious and steely-eyed. "I'll give you that," he allowed with a stiff nod. "I never said I'd changed. Just because one new fact came to light..." "And you won't let a guy get a word in edge-wise," Harry interrupted, shutting Draco up successfully as he climbed away from the hospital bed.

"Harry—" he started warningly, nerve-wracked and worried enough to slip and used his first name aloud. The Gryffindor flashed his teeth in a dangerous, predatory smile of victory that somehow seemed so very out of place yet so very right. Draco cursed anew under his breath as his secret obsession came closer. Didn't he know he was still weak, recovering from near-death? Even if he didn't fully look it anymore... "_Potter_," he emphasized, "Shouldn't you stay in bed? After the war—" Harry paused in his movements, face darkening and eyes almost scary. "_I_ am fine. _You_ almost died as well, most painfully in fact! It was largely _your_ sacrifice that destroyed Voldemort and saved _me_, _**twice**_! Why aren't _you_ still in bed instead of running away or watching over me?"

Draco gaped. He was caught out, again. And Harry's eyes flashed triumphantly as pain flared through his pale form. As if he knew- or caused the reminder. Only this time he didn't know whether to curse himself for obliviousness, the incidental bond, or Snape wherever he was for training Harry a little _too_ well. "The final verse, and simply that..." he began slowly, as if to get it to sink in or to reign in his temper, "Kept me in a stasis rather than the certain death and damnation you would've taken. Your initial spell casting and Hermione's magic absorbed a lot of it," Harry snapped, "You had to risk your soul, then trade your life, when it was _**my**_ destiny—" Draco almost fell, so in shock he missed the opportunity to make a sarcastic comment about the hero's ego trip. Harry was scolding him? Sounding worried over him? Acting as if he made a difference? "But then, like I said, you still don't let anyone get a single word in, much less actually listen to an opinion not your own," the dark-haired wizard finished, stalking towards him at a steady pace, seeming suddenly stronger. "Assuming you know best." Quicker than he could blink, Harry grabbed his hand again, reeling him in. "Chained," Draco heard him murmur as he examined his palm, tracing the lines. But all he heard was the blood rushing in his ears from the touch- until those life-saving Avada Kedavra green eyes met his and it clicked.

"Chained. So how could I let you go?" Draco gulped rapidly, heart beating practically out of his chest as magic sang through him. The answer to that one question opened up a million others. "It doesn't have to—" the spy whispered huskily, desperately, hoping yet not wanting Harry obligatorily bound because of a mistaken ritual. He'd rather AK himself than have the hero trapped at his side as a companion or... whatever, by blood. If he left, if he was gone, Harry would be free. Harry still had a chance to be happy. "We can still split and—" The Boy-Who-Lived-Again laughed almost chidingly, "Always one step behind." Then he was attacking the Slytherin's lips with his own, demanding a response he got immediately. The forceful lips and tongue were making Draco lose his breath and what was left of his mind all over again. To something he never knew, or never let himself realize, he wanted. Since the day he started guarding Harry. And all Draco could do was clutch his arms in a bruising grip, hardly daring to believe but drugged by the sweet wine of promise in that kiss. He never even thought Harry could mean something like this, could want him... Or even that he'd be anything but straight. And this wasn't a spell? "The bond didn't create any such feelings," Harry answered his thoughts with an amused grin. "The feelings created the bond. Otherwise we'd be two people with just half a soul, dead inside if not in reality… instead of one shared soul, vibrantly alive. Otherwise it wouldn't hurt so much to feel the others pain or to be apart."

The raven-haired wizard tilted his head, "How could I have a happy, free life without you when no matter how evil you appeared at times you've haunted my mind for years? Even before I realized what it was." Draco drew in a sharp breath, head spinning. This was real, this was his? "I'm no hero, I'm nothing," he intoned with dark, sober eyes. Harry shook his head, expression fierce, "You're _everything_. A hero to me, and everyone that came out of that battle alive. And if I have to _knock_ that into you..." Draco laughed, shaking his head, "Go up against the Boy-Who-Lived? Never." "So maybe some things _have_ changed," the victor grinned before dragging him into another passionate kiss. Draco just groaned, hands raking through the thick black hair, as he lost himself again to the man that gave him a purpose. 'Foolish Gryffindor,' he sent their link, this time with the greatest affection. Then he set about proving just everything he meant to him as well.

**-The End-**

**A/N: **_This was my very first story under this name and in this fandom, just revised and reloaded, with a pairing that's still pretty new to me. It may be slightly dramatic at points and a bit OC [then, most fanfictions are], but I think it came out well, and hopefully you agree too. As always, I appreciate any reviews._


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